My Beautiful Rescue
by EmeraldLovesHazel
Summary: Lily has a relapse of self harm that lands her in a mental hospital. James is forced to volunteer at the same hospital. Can he help her find the root of her problems so she can solve them, or is it simply too late for her? Rated M for graphic self harm.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:****Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm not claiming ownership. I'm not making money off this. It's simply for my enjoyment, as well as the enjoyment of those who choose to read it. Proceeding.**

**  
**"FREAK!" Lily heard, the shrill sound of her sister's voice radiating throughout their home, echoing, as if she had screamed them a million times. Then in a quiet, cold voice, Petunia finished her thought, "_You_ are no sister of _mine_."

These words stung Lily like ice. Petunia had been so cruel to her lately, ever since she had come home for the summer. She became nostalgic for a moment, her mind floating back to the days when they had been best friends. She remembered when Petunia had taught her how to swing, how to ride a bike, how to tie her shoe, how to play card games, how to wrap a Christmas present (however messily), and even how to be a good sister. All of those days were gone now, and this hit Lily like the fists of a thousand angry gods. She could no longer take the pain.

Heading to her room at a ghostly pace, she did not even flinch when her elbow accidentally came in contact with the hot flame of a burning candle. She deserved the pain. When she reached her bedroom, she sat down on her bed and opened the drawer to her nightstand. Inside sat her best friend—the only thing that understood her—a sharp, shiny silver blade. Her thin fingers grasped the dull edge, and she marveled at the simplicity of its design. Its creator never would have imagined that it would bring so much relief to people like her.

Slowly, Lily lifted up the hem of her dress until her entire lower body was exposed. She brought the sharp edge of the blade down until it came in contact with the pale skin of her inner thigh, and then began to apply pressure, dragging it down until it had made a deep, three inch long cut. Oh, how she had missed this feeling.

She watched as the warm blood trickled down her leg, mesmerized by the effect just one cut had on her. She had been clean for almost a year, but every day had been a struggle. She had finally cracked under all of the pressure. Lily continued making cuts of various length and depth on her leg until she felt she had no energy left to continue. Then, she lay down and drifted off to sleep, the fresh wounds still stinging wonderfully under the fabric of her dress.

* * *

"Lily, sweetie, open your eyes," said a familiar voice, almost impatiently. "Lily, please dear, open your eyes!" the voice continued to plead. She recognized it as her mother's. 

Try as she might, she couldn't open her eyes. '_Am I dead?'_ she thought. She tried to move, to talk, to make any kind of indication to her mother that she was all right, until she felt the stinging and stickiness of the cuts and blood on her legs. Then she remembered she was _not_ okay—she was anything _but_ okay. Her heart began to ache like it never had before, so much that it was almost physically painful. Her soul cried out to her parents, to her sister, to anyone that would listen, just to help her climb out of this hole into which she had dug herself so deep. But she couldn't wake up.

She heard someone else entering the room. It was a man's voice, deep and smooth, like honey. "No change?" her father asked.

"Nothing," answered her mother, breaking down into sobs. Her cries became muffled, and Lily assumed that her father had embraced her mother to calm her down. When the crying stopped, she felt cold, wet hands interlacing their fingers with her own.

"I think she needs to stay here at Asclepius's for a while, honey. She's not going to get better on her own. We both know that," reasoned her father.

'_So that's where I am? The mental hospital?'_ Lily thought, as she heard her mother mutter something about how she hadn't paid enough attention to her. Lily knew this wasn't true. Her mother had paid more than enough attention to her. She just had problems. She was emotionally unstable, and her family had nothing to do with that. Just then, she felt warm liquid streaming down her left cheek.

"She's crying!" her mother exclaimed. One would usually thing a mother being ecstatic about her child crying was odd, but this was an unusual situation. "Lily, are you awake? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, sweetie."

Lily concentrated as hard as she could, but she could not get her muscles to move. _'How much blood did I actually lose?'_

Lily thought about how pathetic she must look to everyone, especially to Petunia. Being in a coma from blood loss didn't exactly make her any less of a freak than she was before. In fact, it just exacerbated the problem. Her sister would probably never speak to her again.

Just then, a meek, tearful voice piped up, "What if she dies?" It was Petunia! Lily realized that she absolutely had to see this, just to make sure it was true. With all of her might, concentration, and will power, she fought to open her eyes—and succeeded.

The first thing she noticed was that her sister was not in the room. She looked at her father as he answered the question her mother—not Petunia—had just asked. The next thing she noticed was that she was unable to talk because there was a breathing tube down her throat. She tried to pick up one of her arms to gesture to one of her parents, to let them know that she was alive and awake, but she was simply too weak. She coughed. Immediately, both sets of eyes shot in her direction.

"Lily! Honey! Oh we were so worried!" her mother said, squeezing her hand as a fresh tear slid down her cheek. She raised her hand to Lily's forehead, brushing the auburn locks out of her face. "Honey, why didn't you tell us you were feeling like that again? We could have done something to help!"

Lily shook her head, using her eyes to gesture toward her breathing tube. It was preventing her from answering her mother.

"Lily, dear, this isn't the time to make silly faces. Your father and I are seriously worried about you!" her mother continued.

"Ivy, I think she's trying to tell us that she can't talk. She's got a breathing tube in," her father pointed out. Lily sighed with relief. "Do you think they'll take it out now that she's awake?"

"I don't know, why don't you go ask the doctor?" her mother suggested, and her father left the room. Lily closed her eyes, trying to imagine what she would say to her parents once she could finally talk. What was making her feel like this again? Was it only Petunia, or was it deeper than that? Was it because she had been chosen to be the Head Girl at school this year? Could it have anything to do with not expressing her true feelings about James Potter? It could be a combination of anything going wrong in her life. Lily reasoned that it was because of all the pressure she had been under lately, and that she was stupid for resulting to something that had pained her so much over a year ago. A year without harming herself…and it was hard as hell.

Lily's father returned with a nurse who checked her vitals and removed her breathing tube. They allowed her to sip on a glass of water, and then began to question her on what exactly had happened. She wanted to avoid talking about it for as long as possible, so she began asking questions herself.

"How long was I out?" she asked informally.

"Two days," her mother responded.

"Okay, so when can I go home?" Lily asked hopefully. Her parents exchanged glances.

"Well, your mother and I have decided that it would be in your best interest to spend the remainder of the summer holiday here. They'll be able to help you get to the root of your problems, sweetie."

"I don't _have_ any problems," Lily spat. "I want to go home!" She tried to sit up, but she still didn't have enough energy to make large movements.

"Honey, look at your legs!" her mother said, lifting removing the blankets and lifting up her hospital gown. The scars were there, still stinging, covered in blood-soaked bandages. "Do you know how many stitches they had to give you? Over two hundred! Lily, you're staying here for the rest of the summer. There's only a month left. You'll go back to school on September 1st, and everything will be back to normal. No one will even know what happened to you this summer! This is a muggle hospital!"

"That has absolutely_ NOTHING_ to do with it!" Lily began, but her father wouldn't hear of it.

"Lily, you're staying here to get the help you need, and that's final. We'll visit you whenever we can, of course, dear, but you have to stay here," he reasoned.

"Fine," Lily answered submissively. "But could you cover me up again? I'm cold."

"But dear, it's got to be ninety degrees in this room!" her mother exclaimed, covering her up anyway.

"I know… I'm just… cold."

* * *

_Swoosh_. A brown leather football soared through the hot summer air, brushing the leaves of a baby oak before coming to an abrupt halt in the hands of 17 year-old James Potter. 

"Nice catch, mate," said his handsome counterpart Sirius Black, steel-grey eyes sparkling in the smoldering sun.

"Thanks, Padfoot. You know, I'm really starting to get hungry. Why don't we go in for a snack in a few minutes?" James gestured toward the large brick house, standing three stories tall.

"Yeah, me too. Two more throws?" Sirius suggested.

James nodded, and hurled the ball toward his friend, only to have it land over 20 feet behind him. "Oh, you think you can throw farther than me, do you?" Sirius said with a small, narcissistic grin. "Watch this!"

He threw the ball as hard as he could, and the two friends stood with their mouths hanging open as they watched it spiral through the air and land on the other side of the fence.

"Control your throws, mate," James laughed.

"Shut up and go get the ball," Sirius said, obviously angry that he had made a mistake in judging trajectory.

"Me?" James asked, exasperated. "You threw it!"

"What, are you scared?" Sirius teased.

"Scared? Of course not! It's just an extremely tall fence with barbed wire on the top. Psh, I can scale that in a heartbeat," James insisted.

"Do it, then—without your invisibility cloak."

"Okay, I will." And with that, James pulled out his wand and conjured a staircase to lead him over the fence and back down safely. As he climbed, he looked around to make sure no one was watching. This would require serious memory charms if he was caught. Once he reached the bottom step, he hopped off and made the stairs disappear. Then, he began searching around for the ball. At last, he found it, and he ran over to it, clutching the brown leather in his fingers and turning around to leave.

"Hey! Hold it, mister!" a booming voiced called out. James dropped the ball and turned around. A tall man in a blue uniform was headed toward him, advancing quickly. His instincts told him to run, but he stood still, unable to move his feet.

At last, the man stopped and grabbed his shoulder. "Did you escape, son?" he asked.

"Escape? What?" James sputtered. This had to be a joke. "My friend Sirius and I were playing catch, and he threw the ball over the fence! He dared me to go get it. I didn't escape from anywhere!"

The man sighed. "Son, do you know where you are?" he asked.

"Umm… In a fenced off area with a large building?" James answered, as he had just noticed the large, pathetically dirty building standing about fifty feet away from him.

"This is Asclepius's Mental Hospital. You're trespassing. There are severely mentally ill people here. Do you realize that this is a crime?"

"No, sir! I had no idea that this was a hospital! Please don't send me to jail!"

"That's not my choice, son. I'm taking you inside to call your parents," said the man, and with that, they walked toward the building.

* * *

"James Harold Potter!" his mother's shrill voice yelled, full of anger and disappointment. "What possessed you to climb over that fence? How many times do we have to tell you to avoid that place?" 

"I guess I never really paid attention! I'm sorry!" James pleaded with his mother. He was rarely punished, though he deserved it most of the time. Something told him this would be one of the rare times his mother did something, but he would have never expected what kind of punishment she had in mind.

"You'd better be sorry! And as a punishment and an apology for trespassing on those poor sick people's hospital, you're going to volunteer there for the rest of the summer!" she screamed.

"VOLUTEER AT THE LOONEY BIN?" James said a little more loudly than intended, exasperated with the thought of spending the next month with people who talked to themselves or were convinced they were a chicken or something like that.

"Yes, young man, and don't call it 'the looney bin'. You're going to spend AT LEAST five hours a day there until the summer holiday is over. You start tomorrow at eight in the morning. This conversation is over. Go up to your room now."

James knew never to question his mother when she sounded so serious, so he did what he was told, mentally kicking himself for accepting Sirius's dare. Five hours a day wasn't that bad, he guessed. He'd be out by one o'clock each afternoon. That was plenty of time to hang out with his friends or do whatever else he felt like doing. Since it wasn't late enough to go to sleep yet, James worked on a bit of homework before changing into his pajamas and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The first thing James thought when he arrived at Asclepius's the next morning was that the inside of the building was just as depressing as the outside. How could someone be treated for depression in a place that looked like it would cause it? He had no idea. The volunteer office assigned him to the second floor activity unit, assuring him that he was their first volunteer in years and that the residents would be "so happy to see him". _'No big surprise there,'_ he thought. _'At least I only have to deal with the most sane of the insane.'_

A woman wearing navy blue scrubs led him to the activity manager on the second floor, who then introduced him to all of the patients. James, only half listening, became extremely interested on a painting on the wall by some abstract artist called Picasso.

"This is Neil, and this is Andrea, this is Eva, this is Jenna, this is Michael, and this is our newest patient, Lily."

James's eyes widened as his mind tore away from the painting at the mention of Lily's name. He turned his head so that his eyes met hers, and he whispered her name, "_Lily_."

"James?" Lily asked breathlessly, and she promptly fainted, falling out of her chair and onto the floor.

**A/N: Yeah, I know. Angstfest 2007. Let me know what you think. Review? Chocolate chip brownies for anyone who does. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay guys, I'm so sorry it has taken forever me to update this. I've been crazy busy with school and stuff. Another part of me didn't know exactly what the next step would be for Lily, but I finally found out what needed to happen. The story has already been disclaimed, so we will go… ONWARD.**

* * *

"Lily! Lily, are you all right?" James Potter asked as he watched the emerald-eyed beauty fall out of her chair and onto the floor. He immediately dropped to his knees and brushed her auburn hair out of her face. Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and she opened her eyes, starting straight into James's.

"James?" she asked groggily once again. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story," he answered grudgingly as his mother's harsh, wrinkly face flashed quickly into his mind. "I could ask you the same question. Are you okay?"

Lily looked at him for a second, her face contorted into an odd expression, then said, "Of course I'm okay. I'm just stuck in a mental hospital, that's all." Her voice positively dripped with the utmost loathing.

"Now, Mr. Potter, there's no need to upset the patients," the nurse droned, completely oblivious to the fact that he obviously knew Lily quite well.

"Sorry," James apologized, although it was questionable whether he was speaking to Lily or to the nurse. He got up, and then reached down to lend Lily a hand. She snatched her arm away, and then proceeded to make her way off the ground with the help of the chair behind her.

'_Fine, be that way,'_ James thought. He stepped back to look at the activity sheet the nurse had taped to the wall and rolled his eyes. _'They're scheduled to do puzzles right now? What kind of mental hospital makes their patients do puzzles?'_ James was certain that this kind of torture would drive the patients insane rather than treat them. He sighed and began to hand out the five hundred piece jigsaw puzzles, all the time wondering what was wrong with Lily.

'_On second thought, maybe I don't want to know,'_ he reasoned, looking into her eyes and seeing nothing but pain and confusion. He sat down at a table on the other side of the room and began to put his puzzle together. He had chosen one with only fifty pieces, as he didn't want to be the next admission to the hospital. As James put the edge pieces in place, he realized that he had no idea what kind of puzzle he was assembling. He hadn't so much as looked at the cover, so he reached for the box to look at the picture on the top.

It was a seemingly simple scene. There was a kitchen, brightly lit through the windows on the white door next to a painting. The walls were painted a pale yellow, and all of the appliances and décor matched perfectly; all except one, that is. Sitting in a cracked clear vase on the counter under a cabinet was a bouquet of wilting white lilies. James raised an eyebrow, then set the box down. He turned to his puzzle and searched through the pieces until he found the one he was looking for. Placing the piece carefully in the back pocket of his jeans, he got up to check the progress of the other patients.

Neil and Jenna had worked together on their puzzle of a lovely Christmas scene, and they had already assembled the edge pieces on three sides. James was impressed since he, being as mentally stable as was possible in his current predicament, had only the attention span to pick out one piece. He marveled as they worked quickly, placing at least ten pieces in their correct places every minute. James nodded politely at the two of them, commending them for their good work, and then moved on to the next table.

After walking around the room and watching nearly everyone, James looked up and saw that he had only one person left to observe—Lily. She sat alone at a table, arms folded across her chest, looking nothing short of pissed off. Her eyes were fixed on the puzzle box in front of her, but she had yet to open it. James took a deep breath and began to head over to the place where Lily sat. When she didn't look up, he pulled out the chair net to her and sat down.

"You're ignoring me," James finally said after several moments of awkward silence.

She looked up at him, and for the first time he noticed that her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. Her face was pale, as if it had been drained completely of blood, and she looked like she had lost at least fifteen pounds since school had let out for the summer. She was much too thin. Her usually soft, shiny red hair no longer rested in soft curls on her shoulders. Instead, it was dirty and slightly matted at the tips, thrown up carelessly in a messy ponytail. It was as if she didn't care about her appearance. Strangely though, James thought she looked beautiful, if only beautifully broken. His Lily had turned into a beautiful disaster, and he had become determined to find out why.

'_Give it time,'_ a voice inside his head made itself known. It sounded much like his own, only more strict and stern.

Suddenly, James was torn from his thoughts by Lily's voice saying, "What are you looking at, Potter? Get the hell away from me!"

"Lily, look," he picked at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. "I don't know why you're here, but if you ever need someone to talk to—"

"I don't _need_ someone to talk to, James!" Lily fought to keep her voice down. "I just need to make it out of here alive so I can go back to school in September! My point is, James, that I can't do that if you're always around here _bugging_ me. You're one of the reasons I… well… that's irrelevant. Your company isn't good for me right now. I can barely handle what's inside my own head! Obviously, I have a few things to sort out, and my parents won't let me leave here until I do. I'd appreciate it if you would leave now."

"Okay Lily, if that's what you want, I'll do it for you," James agreed. He could tell she was getting really worked up. Her cheeks matched her hair, and her chin was wrinkled from biting her bottom lip.

"Oh and James, I'd appreciate it if we could keep my being here between the two of us," she added, just to be sure.

"Of course, Lily. I won't tell anyone," James whispered the last part, trying and failing to lighten the mood. He got up out of his chair, running a hand through his untamed black locks as he headed back over to Neil and Jenna's table. So many thoughts were racing through his head, but the one that stood out the most was that last image of a broken girl, biting her lip as if she was trying to silence something she wanted to say to the world.

* * *

Lily sat in the chair next to her window, staring out and longing to see anything but the stone walls and iron fence that surrounded this prison-like place. Why did her parents make her come here? Did they really think it was going to make her better? She knew it wouldn't help her at all. The only reason she had been able to stop for so long the last time was because she was surrounded by her support system, her family and friends who loved her, and they wouldn't let her do anything to harm herself. Sure, they may not have known exactly what was going on, but their company usually helped her focus on something different, if only for a while.

There was a knock at the door. Lily ignored it and continued to stare at the barrier from the outside world and imagined blowing it up with her mind. She felt a smile try to creep up onto her lips, but she fought it as hard as she could until the urge subsided. The door opened, as she knew it inevitably would. Lily turned around to see her escort, Maxine, leaning against the doorframe and watching her intently.

Maxine was a muggle woman of around sixty with large tortoise-shell glasses and frizzy blonde hair with white roots. She was a thin woman, and her bony face wrinkled when she smiled, which was often. Lily never smiled back, despite her amusement with the fact that Maxine's clear blue eyes lit up every time. Lily was confused as to how a woman of such advanced years could spend twelve hours a day in a building such as this and still be so cheery all the time. Something about Maxine interested her, and she was sure she'd find out more about her once they finally started speaking.

"Miss Evans," Maxine's throaty voice echoed against the bare walls, deepened by years of smoking. "Will you please follow me?"

Lily didn't answer, but instead rose to her feet and approached Maxine at her spot in the doorway. The two left the room, Lily trailing a few feet behind. They walked down the hall to the elevator, where they went up to the fourth floor and turned left. Lily did not pay much attention to where they were going. She spent most of her time observing her surroundings. She knew that the hospital was only four stories tall, and she searched desperately for a window to look out. She missed the outdoors so much, and it was only her second day in the facility.

At last, Maxine came to a halt outside a white door, bare except for a single wooden sign that read "Dr. S. Lewis" in bold white letters. Lily's eyes widened, but before she got a chance to think, Maxine knocked.

"Come in," a woman's voice came from behind the door. Maxine turned the knob and pushed it open, raising an arm and gesturing for Lily to go inside. She stepped in and began to look around.

The first thing she noticed was the size of the room. It was big—bigger than her room back on the second floor—with a huge window that covered the entire back wall. There was a lot of furniture in the room, including a couch, an executive-looking leather chair, a chair with wheels, two beanbag chairs, a desk, several bookshelves filled with large dusty volumes, and various tables that seemed to serve different purposes. Lily raised an eyebrow as a box of crayons on a short table next to one of the beanbags, but she had little time to contemplate its purpose, as she was being approached by who she assumed to be Dr. S. Lewis.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Stephanie Lewis. You must be Lily!" the woman raised her hand in an obvious attempt to shake Lily's, but she just stared at the hand like it was infested with the Black Plague. After a few seconds, Dr. Lewis dropped her hand and said, "Thank you, Maxine, for bringing Lily to meet me." Maxine nodded, taking this as her cue to leave, and pulled the door closed. This left Lily alone with the doctor, and she made her way over to the window to look out. Dr. Lewis said nothing, but simply went to her desk and grabbed a yellow notepad and a pen.

Lily was glad to see that she could see beyond the stone wall that ostracized her and the rest of the patients from the outside world from this window. She saw a tree that reminded her of one that grew in her front yard when she was a young girl, and she found a bit of comfort in that. After a few minutes of silence in the room, Lily shifted her eyes to Dr. Lewis's reflection, studying her for the first time. She was a young woman of about thirty with straight platinum blonde hair and full pink lips. Surprisingly, she looked like she could be a younger version of Maxine, with slightly darker sapphire eyes that sparkled with curiosity about Lily. She turned around and attempted to look the doctor right in the eye, but lost confidence and started at the top of her head instead.

"Are you enjoying the view?" Dr. Lewis asked, genuinely concerned that Lily was comfortable in her office. Lily nodded. "It's the best in the hospital. That's why I chose this room. Take a seat," she said kindly, gesturing around the room to the various places where Lily could sit. Lily thought about how ironic it would be if she chose to sit on the floor, but decided against it and took the seat closest to Dr. Lewis on the couch.

"Comfy?" she asked. Lily nodded once more, and Dr. Lewis looked pleased.

"Excuse me doctor, but why am I in here?" Lily asked. "This doesn't look like any doctor's office I've ever seen before."

"Well I'm not like any doctor you've ever seen before, Lily. I'm a psychiatrist. I'm here to listen to you and try to help you solve your problems." Dr. Lewis answered professionally, not missing a beat. It seemed as though she had done this many times before.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I've only just met you. Why would I start pouring my soul out to someone I've known for five minutes?" Lily questioned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of sharing her innermost thoughts with anyone. The phrase "open book" immediately came to mind.

"You don't have to pour your soul out to me, Lily. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about. Anything that you feel will help you is a fine topic," Dr. Lewis assured her.

This conversation was becoming like a verbal tennis match, and Lily was too exhausted to argue. After all, it didn't sound too bad. She was beginning to get very lonely because she refused to make friends with the other patients. It would be nice to have someone to talk to every once in a while.

"How often will I be seeing you?" Lily asked.

"Three times a week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for one hour," Dr. Lewis answered, scribbling something down on her yellow notepad. "So Lily, how old are you?"

"I turned seventeen in January," she was already bored with these questions that sounded suspiciously like small talk. The conversation didn't get much more interesting, except for when she was asked about her school. Then, Lily let her imagination run free as she described her "boarding school" as if it were for muggle education. This portion of the conversation resulted in much scribbling on the yellow notepad, and it amused Lily. Finally, there was a knock on the door.

"That's Maxine," Dr Lewis got up and helped Lily off the couch as Maxine stepped inside and smiled at her with those sparkling blue eyes. Lily almost lost the battle with herself trying not to smile back when Dr. Lewis said, "Oh Lily, I almost forgot!" She scrambled over to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a black marble composition notebook.

"This is for you. I've heard that you keep a diary at home, and I thought this might be of use for you until you're released, since you're not allowed to have a spiral notebook," she smiled and pushed the book toward Lily.

"Thank you Dr. Lewis, but I don't have a pen," Lily was puzzled.

"Ah, yes. Well I'm sorry, you're not allowed to have a pen either, but I'll make arrangements for you to have markers and crayons put in your room as soon as possible," Dr. Lewis patted Lily on the shoulder. She flinched.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. I didn't realize you don't like being touched," she sounded genuinely sorry.

"It's fine, Dr. Lewis. Thank you for the notebook."

"You're welcome, Lily. I'll see you Friday."

Maxine led Lily back to her room where she immediately placed the black and white notebook on her nightstand and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the session in her mind to make sure she hadn't said anything too stupid. Maxine showed up at her door a few minutes later with a box of forty-eight crayons and twelve brightly colored markers.

Lily thanked her and grabbed her notebook from the nightstand. She flipped through the blank pages and thought about what she would write in it. Uncapping a marker, she brought it down to the page with the intention of drawing a flower, but instead she began to write.

_So I guess I have a new journal. Cool. I don't like how I can't have a pen, though. I guess they think it's too sharp for me. I'm not that desperate (I don't think)._

_This place is hell. It's stuffy and gloomy and always cold. The food is disgusting and the other patients are all crazier than I am. The strange thing is that I don't think I'm crazy at all. I don't know what I am anymore. It's like my entire life, I've always wondered when I'm finally going to get a break or a vacation or some kind of relief from what I'm going through. Sure, I can take a vacation with my family in the summer (well, except this year) or over Christmas, but that's not what I mean. The kind of vacation I really need is the kind I know no one can have: a vacation from my own mind._

_It's like I'm trapped in here, you know? It's like I'm always begging, praying, screaming to get out and just be someone else for a few moments of peace, but that can never happen. It's like I'm trapped inside this horrible prison, my personal circle of hell, and I don't know how to get out. I always wonder when this will stop. When will I stop wanting to cut myself? Probably never. When can I stop denying the urge to do it? Never._

_Never. That's a word that scares me. It's like a slap in the face. It's like now that I'm in here and my parents have taken such a drastic measure to get me well, I'll never know that kind of relief again, and it's not comforting. I never even thought it was a bad thing until my parents found out about it last year and were so concerned. I just thought it was something I did to set my emotions aside and push them to the back of my mind. I can't even remember what I did when I was upset before I started doing this. It's crazy how long this has been going on, and it's even crazier to know that it has to stop now. I don't know if I can take it._

Lily dropped the marker, surprised with what she had just written. She'd never even allowed herself to think that way before, and there she was, pouring her deepest thoughts into a composition with a purple washable marker. She sighed, realizing how pathetic she must look. She grabbed the top right corner of the page and made a move to rip it out when something stopped her. She didn't want to rip it out. It was the first thing she'd written in years that showed thoughts and emotions that deep. She wanted to keep it.

Lily closed the notebook and placed it inside the drawer of her nightstand, along with the markers and crayons Maxine had brought her. Then she rolled over onto her stomach, too tired to even lift the comforter, and drifted off to sleep, dreams haunted by the thoughts and emotions that had surfaced in the notebook lying hidden just a few feet to her right.

* * *

**A/N: Read and review. :)**


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